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His grip on my jaw is so tight it almost hurts, and our noses brush, our lips nearly touching.
“It’s always been you,” he murmurs roughly, his voice like sandpaper. “Ever since the first time I saw you that night. You’re my fucking guardian angel, my dirty secret, my broken doll. You’re everything I obsess over. Everything I crave.”
This man is no one to me.
My mind screams the words, but they die like echoes in an empty cavern.
He may be nothing to me. But I don’t care anymore. Because whatever this is, I need it.
Tilting my head, I shove against his hold on me, surging away from the door until my mouth meets his.
This isn’t a soft brush of lips.
It’s a violent collision.
My teeth smash against the inside of my lip, drawing a bite of pain and a faint coppery taste. But it hardly matters, because his tongue is already stroking the seam of my mouth, demanding entry and lapping up the drop of blood at the same time.
His body crushes me against the door, pinning my entire arm between us, my hand still shoved down his pants. Lips and teeth and tongues war as we kiss, wrestling with each other to get closer, to take more.
Several drops of wetness slide down his cock and onto my fingers, and I squeeze him harder, stroking him as much as my limited range of motion will allow. His low grunts punctuate my gasps as we kiss like fucking animals, no grace or finesse to it, no sweetness to be found anywhere.
Just hunger.
Just raw, desperate need.
My clit is throbbing so hard that every time I clench my pussy walls, a jolt of pleasure shoots through my body. I want his thick leg between mine again, want to ride the hard muscles of his thigh until I come.
Or better yet, I want his cock. I want the heat that’s burning my hand to be inside me. I want it to mark me from the inside. To fucking brand me.
I close my eyes as his kiss eviscerates me, rocking against him and pressing away from the door to get my body closer to his. I wish my other fucking arm worked, because I want to wrap it around him, to pull him closer, to pin him to me the same way he pinned me to the door. The half-limb flails uselessly, trying to wrap around him even though it can’t—as if my body has forgotten it’s missing a piece.
Marcus has let go of my throat to move his hands all over my body, his touch rough and possessive. His fingers slide up under my shirt, drifting over my ribs and tracing the length of my spine before delving below the waistband of my pants to knead the flesh of my ass.
Then he withdraws both hands to hook them around my thighs, lifting me and wrapping my legs around his waist. My good arm loops around his neck, and I’m vaguely aware of the door at my back disappearing as he turns and strides quickly across the room.
He walks up the stairs without ever breaking the contact of our lips, and the jarring movement of each step grinds my clit against his hard body, making me whimper into his mouth.
I don’t know where he takes me, just that a few moments later, we enter a dark, shadowy room. He drops me on a soft mattress, and before I can rise up onto my elbows, he’s tearing at the button and zipper of my pants.
He fumbles slightly as he yanks them down, and my heart crashes in my chest.
Marcus Constantine doesn’t strike me as the kind of man who fumbles over anything. He’s the embodiment of grace, power, and control. But his movements are rough and uncoordinated right now as he tugs my pants and panties off, throwing them and my shoes to the floor somewhere.
He doesn’t even touch my tank top. He just grabs my legs and pulls me down the bed as he kneels at the foot of it, forcing my thighs open as he drags his tongue up the inside of my leg.
“Wh-what are you doing?” I gasp.
It’s a stupid fucking question. I know exactly what he’s doing.
But I don’t think that’s quite what I mean, anyway. My question is bigger than that. Bigger than the way his breath burns my skin. Bigger than the way the wetness of his tongue makes my hips squirm on the bed as he bites at the muscle of my inner thigh, dragging my flesh between his teeth.
My question is so big, I don’t think I’m ready to hear the answer to it.
So when he ignores me just like he did earlier, I pretend I never asked, throwing my head back and fisting the soft sheets on the bed as his tongue reaches my pussy and slides up the length of my slit.
“Oh god! Fuck!” My back arches, my legs twisting and straining in his grip as I try to escape the ravaging onslaught of sensation.
It’s too much.
